


to be part of the stars

by jostxnneil



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, It Gets Better, Langst, Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), anyway this is just some hunk/lance brotp, but instead i wrote over 4000 words in two hours, cuz they're the best of friends and I love them, hey guys idk what this is but pls take it, it was supposed to be a drabble for fun, sorta - Freeform, that writing feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jostxnneil/pseuds/jostxnneil
Summary: Hunk notices Lance isn't acting like himself. He's not sure what to do about it, but Coran makes the decision for him by taking him to the place where Lance has been spending his nights instead of sleeping.They remind each other why they're best friends in the first place, and everything turns out okay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so. I wrote this bc I was caffeinated and wanted to write, and a friend gave me the prompt of 'langst but from hunk or coran's pov bc i feel like we don't see that enough' and 'maybe of lance being homesick?'  
> it was supposed to be a short drabble, and then...this happened.  
> yeah. enjoy!

            Looking out of the Castle windows was never a good idea for Lance.

            It reminded him of too much all at once—how big space was (infinite), how far away from Earth they were (none of the constellations were familiar), how quiet it was (there’s no sound in space), and how alone they all were (no one but enemies anywhere close).

            And it reminded him of home.

            _“Lance, where do the stars come from?” Mari asks, eyes wide as she looks up at him, head tilted in curiosity._

_Logically, Lance knows the truth of stars—he’s an aspiring pilot, of course he does. But the way that she’s looking up at him, the way she looks at the sky, as if it’s made of magic, he can’t bring himself to explain it scientifically._

_“Mama once told me that they’re the heroes of the past—like that one! You see those three stars? They’re Orion’s belt, and if you look close you can see his shoulders and his bow. And there, that bright star is his lost arrow.”_

_“But why are the heroes stuck in the sky? If they’re heroes, shouldn’t they be in heaven?” Gavin asks, climbing over Lance’s lap to stare suspiciously at his face._

_“What do you mean, ‘stuck in the sky’? Wouldn’t you want to be a star someday? Look at them, shining up there—they’re watching over all of us! They protect us from the monsters, and they get to fly across the sky every single night! To be part of the stars…that sounds like the best sort of reward, don’t you think?”_

_Mari looks up at the stars again, eyes, if possible, even wider. “But aren’t you studying to fly in the stars someday, Lance? Does that make you a hero? Are you gonna be up there watching over us too?”_

_Lance laughs, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She squeals, ducking under his arm to hide her face against his chest, jostling Gavin, who almost falls backwards onto the sand._

_“That’s the dream, butterfly.”_

            Lance rubs his chest, trying to soothe away the ache that’s settled there.

            “I’m living my dream, _mi Mariposa._ I’m protecting you from the monsters,” he whispers, watching his breath fog on the cool glass of the window.

* * *

 

            Hunk is worried about Lance.

            He hasn’t been sleeping—Hunk knows because sometimes when he finishes up a project in the middle of the night he goes to see if Lance is awake to talk to him and he’s almost never in his room.

            Also, the bags under his eyes. They weren’t that noticeable at first—Lance must’ve gotten some sort of Altean concealer from Allura or Coran, but recently he’s gotten too tired to put much effort into his appearance and he doesn’t seem to be using it.

            That’s another sign, right there—in all their history, the only times that Lance has ever dropped the ball on his beauty routine have been when something was bothering him.

            He barely eats, absentmindedly picking at his food until the meal’s over. That _really_  worries Hunk, because if he can’t even bring himself to eat…well, that’s already a tragedy by itself.

            The problem is, Hunk doesn’t know what to do about it. Once upon a time, he would have known exactly how to approach it, but now…they’ve been in space for months. Nearly a year, at this point. Hunk would never say they aren’t still best friends, but—and he hates to admit it to himself—they’ve grown apart. They’re not as close as they used to be. Hunk’s been working with Pidge on a lot of the more technical aspects of saving the universe, learning the workings of the Castle from Coran, and all in all, they just haven’t had as much time to hang out like they used to.

            He feels guilty thinking about it. It’s not his fault—they’re all busy. And every time they try to get some quality time together something happens, like an engineering malfunction or a drill or the end of the world or something.

            The point is—he’s not sure how to help Lance. But he has to do something, because with every day, Lance grows quieter and quieter, and without Lance holding him together, he’d have fallen apart a long time ago.

            So it’s his turn to return the favor.

            He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the bundle of anxiety in his chest before he knocks on Lance’s door.

            Nothing. Silence.

            “Lance?” he calls, trying to be quiet—Keith’s room is just down the hall, and although the odds are slim that he’s actually sleeping, if he is, Hunk doesn’t want to wake him up.

            “Ahhhh, number three! There you are; I’ve been looking all over for you!” Coran’s booming voice exclaims, and Hunk winces at his volume before turning around.

            “What is it, Coran? Do you need help with something?”

            “Eh, well—you could say that. Not with anything that involves your mechanical expertise, don’t worry about that, paladin, it’s just, ah—a more _delicate_ situation, of the sort that I fear the rest of the paladins might not handle properly,” Coran says, and Hunk almost feels dizzy from listening to the circles he’s talking in.

            “What sort of situation? Did something happen? Is someone hurt?” he asks, worried, brow furrowing and hands starting to wring together.

            “No, no—well, not exactly.” Coran sighs, and his moustache droops. “It’s Lance. I’m worried about the boy.”

            “Oh! So you’ve noticed it too?” Hunk asks.

            “Noticed! Of course I’ve noticed, the boy’s acting completely unlike himself. Didn’t make a single joke last week about the oddly-shaped fruit from Chzguknuk,” Coran says, arms waving and moustache quivering indignantly.

            “Yeah, that was weird,” Hunk admits. “He’s stopped his usual beauty routine too, and I know he’s not been sleeping. Or eating! Have you seen him? He just pushes his food around until it’s time to go!”

            “Yes, yes—so you’re aware of the problem then. What are you going to do about it?” Coran says.

            Hunk opens his mouth to reply and then sighs, rubbing his hand through his hair and nearly dislodging his headband in the process. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. I would’ve known exactly what to do back home, but now…we’ve all changed. I was gonna try anyway, but Lance isn’t in his room—”

            “Of course he’s not! Honestly, number three, have you paid any attention at all? He’s rarely in there anymore.”

            Hunk wants to be annoyed, but he can’t really bring himself to be. “Do you know where he is, then?”

            “Well, obviously! I know about everything that goes on in this Castle! Nothing gets past me!” Coran says, drawing himself up proudly. “Now follow me, paladin, I’ll take you to him. He’s on the bridge again.”

            _The bridge?_ Hunk thinks, confused. _Why would he be there?_

They walk in silence for a while, Hunk worrying once more over what he’ll say when they get there. But when they’re about halfway to their destination, Coran starts talking again.

            “I’d talk to him myself, you know—I’ve tried, a few times. But I never know what to say to the poor boy. After our first conversation about homesickness seemed to work, I’ve attempted to repeat it, but—”

            “Wait, wait—what first conversation? When did you and Lance talk about being homesick?”

            “Oh, back on Arus—you remember the party with the Arusians? Lively little fellows they were, getting into trouble all over the place—”

            “Coran.”

            “Oh, right—yes, well, you remember he left the party early? I noticed that he didn’t seem to be quite himself, so I followed him. He asked me to show him your Earth on the star map, so I brought it up for him. It didn’t seem to bring him much comfort, seeing how far away it was,” Coran says, thoughtful.

            “No, it wouldn’t,” Hunk says quietly.

            “He spoke about the rain—said he missed it. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure what he was talking about at first, since we didn’t have it on Altea, but we did have something similar where flaming rocks and metal fall from the sky…he seemed to appreciate the story. We were on our way back to the party when that bomb went off—I’m still grateful to him for that, I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him—”

            “What do you mean?” Hunk interrupts, confused. They’re nearly to the bridge, but he doesn’t remember this part of the story. Actually, he doesn’t remember any of the story; he doesn’t think he ever asked anyone what happened with the bomb.

            “Oh, he didn’t say? I would’ve assumed everyone knew. Lance noticed the bomb right before it went off—he’s always smarter than anyone else seems to expect from him—and he pushed me out of the way. I fear that’s why he was injured as extensively as he was…but if he hadn’t protected me, I would’ve been a goner for sure. Quite a hero you’ve got as a best friend there, number three.”

            “I know,” Hunk says, pride for Lance and guilt at never asking for the full truth warring in his chest.

            “Oh, would you like at that—! Here already. He’s sitting in the dark again, poor thing.”

            When Hunk looks up, he’s surprised to see that they’re at the bridge. His nerves hit him in full force again, and he clears his throat, nervously fidgeting with the zipper on his vest.

            Coran turns to leave, but pauses and looks at him instead, expression serious.

            “Take care of him, number three,” he says, voice softer than Hunk’s ever heard it. “I might not show it much, but I’m quite fond of Lance, and not just because he saved my life. Lance…he reminds me of the son I lost. It’s—quite a striking similarity, actually. They would have gotten on quite well, I’m sure.”

            “Coran—” Hunk starts, sympathy aching in his chest at the thickness of Coran’s voice.

            “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, number three! Do make sure to tell me how it goes.”

            And in a single twitch of his orange moustache, he’s gone.

            Hunk stares after him for a second, wondering at the number of things he’s let slip by him in his time on the Castle.

            Then he turns to the door to the bridge, takes a deep breath, and ducks inside.

* * *

             “Lance?” Hunk calls.

            At first, he doesn’t see him—then there’s movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to see Lance sitting by one of the windows, staring out into space, a vacant look on his face.

            “Lance?” he asks again, voice quieter this time.

            Lance startles, turning to look at him—his eyes are shining, and Hunk would say he’s been crying except that his cheeks aren’t puffy the way they get when he does.

            “Oh—hey, Hunk. What are you doing up? Did you need me for something?” he asks, shifting as if to get up.

            “No—no, I just wanted to spend some time hanging out with my best friend. It’s been a while, buddy.”

            Hunk swears he can feel his heart nearly break at the way Lance’s eyes widen in surprise at that.

            “Oh—uh, are you sure you don’t have anything else you could be doing? You’re usually pretty busy—”

            “Nah, man,” Hunk assures, sitting on the floor next to him. “I’m all yours.”

            Lance pauses, looking somehow both confused and grateful at the same time. He stares down at his lap, and then back out of the window. “I’m not really great company right now. You might get bored.”

            “Of you? Never,” Hunk tells him, and the smile that tugs at the corner of Lance’s lips makes warmth spread through Hunk’s chest.

            They sit in companionable silence for a bit, and Hunk stretches out his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands and watching the universe pass by outside their window.

            After a while, he switches to watching Lance.

            There’s a look on his face—one that’s both familiar and unfamiliar to Hunk at the same time. He looks almost wistful, but with hints of guilt, pain, and nostalgia as well.

            And just like that, Hunk realizes: he’s homesick.

            He should’ve been able to guess that—of all of them, excluding Shiro, Lance is the only one who hasn’t had some sort of semi-extreme breakdown about missing home.

            Mostly because he’s the one that’s always helping the rest of them through their own breakdowns.

            “Lance—” Hunk stops almost as soon as he starts, shocked into silence when Lance _flinches_  at the sound of his voice, as if he’d completely forgotten Hunk was there.

            “Yeah?” he asks, blue eyes questioning as he turns his head to look at Hunk.

            Hunk shakes himself out of his surprise. “Just—are you okay?”

            Something like fear flashes across Lance’s expression. “Uh, yeah? I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

            Hunk leans forward and grabs Lance’s arm, recognizing his routine as it starts—he’s trying to put up a mask, to hide how much he’s hurting, and _Hunk won’t let it happen anymore_.

            “ _Lance_.” He’s frozen, stuck glancing between Hunk’s face and Hunk’s hand on his arm. “I’m not Shiro. Or Keith, or Allura, or—I’m _me_. Hunk. Your best bro. We’ve been there for each other since the Garrison, man. If you’re worried that I’ll judge you, or—well. Just don’t. Because I won’t. You’ve been there for me this whole time, and I’ve been really bad about being there for you, but I can _tell_  that something’s wrong. Don’t shut me out, Lance. Please.”

            Something fractures—the mask. Some sort of wall that he’s been using to hold everything back.

            Whatever it is—Hunk can see it as it cracks, he swears, and suddenly Lance’s face crumples and tears are welling in his eyes and he’s burying himself in Hunk’s chest for the kind of hug that they haven’t had in months.

            Hunk doesn’t even hesitate for a second before wrapping his arms around Lance’s back and pulling him even closer, murmuring reassurances in his ear. “I’m right here, Lance. I’ve got you.”

            Lance’s fingers twist the material of Hunk’s shirt, and his shoulders shake with his tears. He mumbles something that Hunk doesn’t catch, but when Hunk asks him to repeat it, he almost wishes he hadn’t—because it damn near shatters his heart.

            “I miss them,” is all he says. Broken up between breathy sobs, but still coherent.

            “Yeah,” Hunk says. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Lance.”

            He’s not sure how long Lance cries for, but he would’ve gladly held him for days if that’s what he needed, so he doesn’t mind as the minutes stretch on. He just keeps rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on Lance’s back, cradling him close and staring out at the stars, wondering how he ever could have let his best friend get so close to breaking without realizing it.

            Lance quiets, eventually. But he doesn’t pull away, and somehow they end up sitting with Lance’s back pressed against Hunk’s chest, Hunk’s chin on Lance’s shoulder and arms wrapped around his middle. Lance’s own knees are pulled up to press against Hunk’s arms, and he leans on them, hands holding his calves.

            They enjoy another spell of silence, just soaking in each other’s presence and the physical contact between them that Hunk now realizes they both desperately needed.

            And then Lance starts talking.

            “I missed Mariposa’s seventh birthday,” he starts, voice quiet and raw from crying. “Gavin’s, too—he was turning five. And the twins, El and Leo—they turned ten this year.” He sniffles, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can get away from the truth of everything. “I missed all their birthdays. And I wasn’t there to make breakfast in bed for Mama on Mother’s Day, or take the kids to the beach all day so she and Papa could celebrate their anniversary in peace.

            “Cleo was engaged. If they had the wedding when they planned, I’ve missed that too. It’s—it’s almost been a year. And I don’t know what the Garrison told them…they might think I’m dead, for all I know. Even if…even if that’s what they think…they’d still have to go on living their lives. Without me. And I miss them _so much_. It hurts, Hunk.”

            More tears start to fall, but they aren’t accompanied by the gut-wrenching sobs this time. Hunk isn’t sure if it creates more or less of an ache in his chest.

            “I left them. They don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing—they don’t know that I’m fighting a war, and they don’t know that I didn’t choose to leave them as long as I did, and they don’t know that I would give nearly anything to have been able to be there for every single moment I’ve missed.

            “And I keep having dreams,” Lance adds, voice cracking. He stops speaking, as if there’s a lump in his throat too big to talk around.

            “What sort of dreams?” Hunk asks, voice soft. “Nightmares?”

            “Sometimes,” Lance admits. “About the Galra attacking Earth, or something happening to my family while I’m gone, or other things…being trapped in the airlock. Not being able to save you guys if something happened. Messing up and getting someone hurt. Just—a lot of things.

            “But then,” he continues, before Hunk can recover from his surprise at hearing about Lance’s nightmares and say something, “I have other dreams. That I’m back home, as if I never left. Or that we all get to go back home and I get to see them again. Or of memories—mostly from before the Garrison. And they’re perfect. And I feel so happy.

            “And then I wake up,” Lance’s voice starts getting thicker again, tears falling faster, “and it was all just a dream. And I’m back here on the Castle, in a room that’s too quiet and too lonely to be anything like home.”

            Lance lifts a hand to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, taking a shuddering breath. A slightly hysterical laugh falls out of him, and his lips twist with a bitter smile. “I’m not sure which is worse. The nightmares, or waking up from the dreams that I wish were reality.”

            When he lapses back into silence, Hunk doesn’t know what to say.

            He decides to talk anyway.

            “Lance—” he tries. His voice cracks. He tries again. “Lance, I’m sorry.”

            Lance twists in his arms, straightening a bit and turning to look at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “What for?”

            “For not noticing sooner? For not _saying_  something sooner? I’m sorry, Lance. I put you in a place where you thought you couldn’t come to me with this and for that I’m really, really sorry.”

            Lance opens his mouth, brow furrowed in a way that Hunk knows he’s about to protest, and he rushes on before he can, knowing that he has to get this out now.

            “No, Lance—I’m serious. I know I’ve been busy and I know you might not blame me but it’s not an excuse for the fact that I haven’t been here for you. You’ve _always_  been here for me when I’ve needed you. I didn’t return the favor. But—I promise I’m here now. And Lance…no matter what the Garrison might try to tell them…your family wouldn’t ever give up on you. Not for a single second. We’ll get you home to them, and after she finishes yelling at you for leaving without leaving so much as a note, your mom’s going to give you the biggest hug you’ve ever gotten in your entire life, and she probably won’t let go for a really, really long time.”

            Lance looks like he almost smiles, but then—

            “What if we don’t make it home?” he whispers. “We’re fighting a war, Hunk. There are casualties in war. And…I know you might not want to hear it but—if one of us has to die, I’d rather it be me than any of you. I’m not sure I could stand to lose any of the family I’ve managed to find with you guys. And, looking at it logically…I’m the only one we can really stand to lose. Everyone else is irreplaceable.”

            “ _Lance_ ,” Hunk chokes, and unconsciously pulls him tighter. “Don’t—damnit. You don’t know, do you? You don’t even realize. Don’t _say that_. Okay? Without you, we’d be dead already. You’re the sharpshooter. You’re always watching our backs. Keith, at least, would be dead about thirty times over if you weren’t here. I think we’d all be dead at least a couple times. Even Shiro. And besides that—you keep us together. You keep us from going crazy. We might groan at your jokes and Pidge might yell at you and Keith likes to fight with you, but we all need you. Without you, we’d fall apart. There isn’t a single person in this Castle that would disagree with that. You aren’t _replaceable_. You never were, and you never will be.”

            Lance’s eyes start glistening again, but there’s a shaky smile on his lips. He leans against Hunk again, as if his solidity is comforting, and sticks his hand into one of Hunk’s vest pockets.

            Hunk isn’t finished yet. “And Lance—we _will_  get home. It might not be for awhile yet. We might be here for another few years—God, I hope not, but realistically, war lasts a long time. But it doesn’t matter, because at the end of all this, we’ll still be alive, and we’ll go home. And you’ll see your family again, and then you can start making up for all of the birthdays and anniversaries you’ve missed. Okay? We’ll get home. _You’ll_  get home. I’ll make sure of it.”

            The smile Lance gives him this time is significantly less shaky, though there’s a tear glistening on his cheek.

            Hunk wipes it away with his thumb.

            “Thanks, Hunk,” Lance murmurs. “I’m glad I have you.”

            “I’m glad I have you too, Lance. And if I ever hear you say you’re replaceable again, I’m not making you any cookies for a week.”

            “No, not the cookies!” Lance exclaims with a dramatic gasp, hand clasped over his heart.

            And that’s what does it—it’s late, they’ve both been awake for over 24 hours, and so much emotional baggage has just been lifted away that they both burst into hysterical giggles, collapsing backwards into a tangled pile on the floor.

            When they finally stop laughing, gasping for air and holding their stomachs, Lance rolls over and flops on top of Hunk’s chest with an _oomph_ , pillowing his head on folded arms and ignoring the way his hair tickles Hunk’s nose.

            “I’m all for the cuddling, bro, but we should go somewhere more comfortable. Like, at least the lounge. We’re gonna fall asleep.”

            “Here’s fine,” Lance mumbles, voice muffled.

            “You’ll regret it in the morning when you wake up sore,” Hunk tells him.

            “Nah, you’re comfy. I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand…”

            “ _Rude_. I’m offended. You’d do that to your best bro? Trap me here to fall asleep on the cold, unforgiving floor, after I’ve _cradled you in my arms_ for _hours_ ,”

            Lance starts laughing again, and his breath tickles Hunk’s neck until he starts squirming, almost knocking Lance off of his chest.

            “Hunk, no—shhhh, you said you wouldn’t say anything, oh my god,” Lance gasps, still giggling, lifting his face to stare at Hunk with a grin on his face.

            Hunk grins back, happy to see Lance’s familiar smile on his face, and says, trying for an innocent expression, “What do you mean, Lance? I mean, I’m just trying to have a _bonding moment_  here—”

            Lance pulls himself up for a second, and at first Hunk thinks he’s going to roll off to the side, but then he lets himself fall back down, crushing the air from Hunk’s lungs with a choked off wheeze.

            “Shhh,” he says again, shoving his hand over Hunk’s mouth and hiding his face against Hunk’s shoulder.

            “Lance,” Hunk tries to say, only it comes out garbled because of the hand pressed over the lower half of his face. “I’ll lick you.”

            Lance seems to understand that, because he pulls his hand away so fast it’s like Hunk burned him, looking up with his nose scrunched in disgust. “That’s _gross_ , dude. Don’t. Never.”

            “We need to move. I am _not_  sleeping on the floor. I love you, man, but not that much,” Hunk tells him.

            “I’m hurt,” Lance replies, pouting. “I’m truly hurt by that, Hunk. How dare you not be willing to sacrifice comfort for me, your best friend, a pinnacle of beauty and kindness, the model human being—”

            Hunk snorts, and Lance breaks character with a grin. “I love you too, my precious Hunk-a Hunk-a burning love.”

            And _finally_ , Lance rolls off of him, landing on his back on the ground and flinging his arm over his eyes.

            “There, I’ve sacrificed my own comfort for your antiquated ideas of proper cuddling etiquette, do with it what you will,” he sighs, dramatically flapping his hand at Hunk.

            Hunk climbs to his feet, reaches down, grabs Lance’s still-waving hand, and yanks him to his feet, ignoring Lance’s yelp of surprise.

            “C’mon. I’m not done cuddling yet, but again, I am _so_  not sleeping on the floor. We’re going to the lounge. We’ll make a blanket fort.”

            Lance’s eyes light up, and he smiles. “I know where Coran keeps the good pillows and blankets.”

            Hunk pumps his fist in triumph. “ _Yes_. I knew he was holding out on us.”

            Lance opens his mouth, hesitates, looks to think better of it, and then finally blurts out, “Can I get a piggyback ride?”

            “ _Absolutely_ , dude. Since when do you have to ask? Hop on!”

            Hunk stumbles from the enthusiasm Lance puts into jumping on his back, but he just laughs and starts walking.

            Lance chatters on in his ear about the last time they made a blanket fort and how fun it was, but how this time would be even better because they could use the good bedding for it and it’d be even comfier.

            Hunk listens to him and occasionally chimes in with his own thoughts, and he feels his shoulders lighten the longer their conversation goes on.

            It’s been too long since they’ve done this. It’s been too long since they’ve done or even talked about anything that wasn’t related to Voltron or the war.

            He makes a mental note to thank Coran, because none of this would have happened without the older Altean, and he hadn’t realized how much they’d both needed this.

            _I swear I won’t ever let it get this bad again,_ he promises to himself. _For either of us._

            The Castle is quiet, everyone else asleep or at least in their rooms by now, but with Lance’s familiar voice laughing in his ear, now on to describing a disastrous pillow fort attempt from when he was younger, it doesn’t feel suffocating.

            _We’ve got each other,_ Hunk thinks. It’s something he’s always known, but he guesses he needed this reminder.

            In the morning, the others will probably find them asleep in their blanket fort. Depending on the mood and who finds them first, what follows will vary, but whatever it is, Hunk could never mind it.

            And regardless, he’s gonna stick by Lance from now on. If he has to sit on him to get him to eat or sleep properly, he will.

            He smiles. For now, everything’s as right as it could possibly be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://jostxnneil.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
